


First Sight

by Arsenic and (Oleander)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AO3 1 Million, ASiP remix, Ficlet, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oleander/pseuds/Arsenic%20and
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes has never believed in love at first sight.  Technically, this is not first sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Slashy remix of the last scene from A Study in Pink. Deviations from canonical dialogue and dialogue order are intentional.
> 
> Wrote this on Valentine's day, and it hasn't had more than a cursory look for spelling and grammar. Apologies for anything I missed, and for the inevitable americanisms.

_Coup de foudre._   Sherlock had often lamented uselessness of poetic expression, but it was the only way he knew to express the synthesis of the data he was receiving now.  Struck by lightning between one heartbeat and the next.  Love at first sight.  Well, not _first_ sight in the literal manner, but Sherlock felt as if he was seeing John Watson truly for the first time.  A plain exterior, yes, but behind the unassuming façade, a man like none other.

  
John caught his gaze.  Sherlock fought down the urge to smile where Lestrade could see.  “Actually, do you know what?  Ignore me.  It’s the, er, the shock talking.”

  
Lestrade said something; Sherlock replied without thinking.  His feet were leading him toward John, his mind fluttering through data, possible permutations, outcomes.  He’d never had the impulse to do anything remotely like this before.  _Make a good impression, Sherlock._   He slipped off the blanket, ducked under the crime scene tape, and tossed the orange mass through the open window of a police car.  John had watched him coming, and he spoke now.  “Sergeant Donovan’s just been telling me—”

“Yes.”  He leaned closer.  “Good shot,” he whispered.

   
Sherlock watched something about John grow hard and distant for a moment, before he softened again and replied, “Yes, it must have been.”

  
Sherlock tilted his head to the left.  _Playing innocent doesn’t work on me, John._

  
John lifted his chin, continuing the silent conversation.  _I stand by my actions_.  Sherlock sees a flash of John-the-soldier in that gesture.

  
“Let’s avoid the court case, then,” Sherlock conceded.

  
“He wasn’t a very nice man.”

  
More reassuring.  That hit of lightning began escaping him, flowing toward John.  The air between them was charged.

  
“You should have seen the route he took us to get here,” Sherlock offered.

“Frankly, a bloody awful cabbie,” John returned.

It must have been the electricity, because it had never been so easy for Sherlock to talk to anyone.  John made a face and started to giggle, and Sherlock couldn’t help but do the same.

“Oh, stop, it’s a crime scene, we can’t—”

Sherlock didn’t care.  He took John’s hand, pulling him away from the scene, still laughing.  “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

John hadn’t let go of his hand.  Sherlock could have powered the entirety of London with the tingle running through him.  A new case, and something else.  Something new to him, but certainly… _good_.

**Author's Note:**

> Coup de foudre: French, literally "lightning strike", but more commonly used to mean "love at first sight"
> 
> Constructive criticism welcome.


End file.
